


Fallout

by amerasu1013 (amerasu_1013)



Series: Fallout Verse [1]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Accidental Mating, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alpha Gerard Piqué, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Angst and Feels, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, I'm aiming for it at least, M/M, Omega Sergio Ramos, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Dynamics, Rough Sex, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Unwanted Bond, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-18 06:50:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21540163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerasu_1013/pseuds/amerasu1013
Summary: What happens when the unthinkable happens?An unwanted, accidental mating changes everything. How do you handle the aftermath? How do you deal with the fallout?
Relationships: Gerard Piqué/Sergio Ramos
Series: Fallout Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614787
Comments: 44
Kudos: 169





	1. Chapter One - Sergio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Warning: This is fic about an accidental, unwanted bonds. Neither of them wanted this, on the surface at least. There's some underlying attraction here that caused this, the two idiots just don't know it yet. Still, be warned just in case. If you're uncomfortable with this issue or unwated/forced bonds, stay away. Or if you don't like angst - stay away too because I relish angst and love writing it. I wrote a nice kindergarten fic where they're both kids (shameless self-plug), go read that instead! I promise that one is way less angsty! :)
> 
> 2\. Previously titled: "The one where I make them mate by accident and then need to figure out a way to resolve this with a happy ending..." I've thought about this for a good long time, and finally got around to start writing it. I can't promise regular updates because there's that stupid thing called work and more stupid things called responsibilities. I should have a bit more time to write than usual during the winter since field work is not happening, but still, we shall see how often I can update. No promises that there will be something like a regular schedule though, sorry.
> 
> 3\. Betaed, as always, by the lovely and invaluable [zilldk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zilldk/pseuds/zilldk). The title was her idea too and the summary as well, because I am apparently incapable of doing it on my own... then again, it's three in the morning and my body wanted to go to sleep a couple hours ago, so allowances can be made? Anyway... Thank you very much, darling!!! Any remaining mistakes are mine, please do point them out to me and I'll fix them. English is not my native tongue and all that...
> 
> 4\. Geri is not the villain in this. I repeat: he is not the villain in this. Seriously.
> 
> 5\. And if you've made it all the way through this long-ass author's note now without complaining: have a virtual cookie. Thank you!

“There’s a lot of press outside.” Toni says, looking uncomfortable.

Sergio doesn’t answer, doesn’t comment on how Toni is pointing out the obvious. He can see them very well through the blinds, the mob of reporters downstairs, surrounding the gate like an army laying siege to the castle where they know their prize is waiting.

And Sergio is a prize today, isn’t he? Even more so than usual, he’s never really out of the spotlight, can’t go anywhere without people following him, waiting to document his every move, every mistake, every blunder and every stumble. But it’s worse now, so much worse, and Sergio has only himself to blame.

Toni shifts a bit closer, a tiny bit, less than a hand’s width, but Sergio stiffens anyway - and Toni notices. He freezes immediately, and Sergio only relaxes when he knows Toni won’t come closer. This is good, Toni’s good right where he is. Close enough so Sergio can see and hear and smell him, but not too close to make Sergio feel crowded. Piqué, over in the opposite corner furthest away from Sergio, hasn’t made any attempts to come closer at all.

It’s fine. Sergio doesn’t want him close anyway.

“What can I do?” Toni asks, voice pitched low so Piqué won’t hear - at least they can all _pretend_ he can’t hear.

Sergio doesn’t answer - what _could_ he do? What? - and just listens to Toni’s voice. His accent makes his words sound stilted and formal, but Sergio knows Toni, he hears the underlying worry and helplessness. And yet Toni doesn’t crowd Sergio, doesn’t try to wrap him in a hug like Casemiro did before Sergio punched him in the face, freaked out and scared and feeling queasy at the mere thought of someone, _anyone_ touching him. They all backed off then, all the Alphas in Real’s pack, but it was already too late.

Here they are. Sergio’s neck burns, the mating bite is throbbing fiercely. Piqué bit _deep_. At least it’s no longer bleeding, but even so Sergio is always aware of the bite. It throbs with every beat of his heart, his blood seems to pulse against the bandages, hot and fiery and ever present, a constant reminder of what happened. Of how stupid Sergio was…

Sergio presses his forehead against the cool wall next to the window and swallows, hard. Piqué, over in his corner, doesn’t move, a sullen, seething presence Sergio does not want to feel, but is always aware of. He can’t _not_ be aware of him, can’t ignore him. Not anymore. Never again.

Toni notices Sergio’s mood, could probably tell it even without the pack bond they share, but he doesn’t try to come closer to comfort, even though Sergio knows he wants to. This is why he wanted Toni here and not any of the other Alphas. Toni is a friend, but he’s distant in a way, very aware of other people’s boundaries. Maybe it’s a German thing, to keep your distance from anyone outside of family and very close friends, to shake hands rather than hugging, and to always be aware of someone’s personal space and to be very protective of your own. Certainly when Toni joined Real he was uncomfortable with being hugged, especially by Omegas. He’s better with it now, will let himself be hugged and kissed and even, occasionally, with the young ones, will instigate a hug himself. But he’s still distant, still mindful of personal space and boundaries. Any of the other Alphas on Sergio’s team would long have tried to hug Sergio, to wrap protective arms around him and shield a packmate from harm, but Toni doesn’t. And Sergio appreciates it more than he can say.

He doesn’t want to be touched right now. Not by anyone. And certainly not by Piqué.

Sergio sighs, feeling more than hearing Toni shift minutely, the Alpha’s protective instincts flaring. Over in his corner Piqué raises his head. Sergio ignores him.

“Nothing.” He says quietly, finally answering Toni’s question. “You can do nothing. They all know already anyway - everybody knows. The whole world knows…”

Toni shifts again and lets out a slow breath. “Sergio…”

“It’s fine.” Sergio smiles, grimaces. He was so stupid. And now…

A commotion by the door, Sergio turns his head to see what’s going on. Toni takes a step to the side, placing himself between the door and Sergio, Piqué starts to move towards him but jerks himself to a stop, looking annoyed. Instead he turns and walks towards the door. Sergio looks after him and wonders if Piqué was annoyed because he found himself automatically moving towards his unwanted new mate, or if it was because it was _Sergio_ he was trying to get to. Not that Sergio cares, by the way. He doesn’t _need_ Piqué protecting him, he doesn’t _want_ Piqué protecting him. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want _any_ of this shit.

Stupid, he thinks. How could I have been so fucking stupid.

He stares, unblinking, unseeing, at the crowd of reporters outside. It’s growing, there’s even more of them now. Sharks, scenting blood in the water. Vultures, circling. Hyenas, sniffing around, waiting for the prey to appear. Sergio does not want to go outside. But he’ll have to, soon. No way around it. And then the whole world will know.

“Sergio?” He turns his head - Toni again, reaching out a careful hand, but not touching. “They - they say you need to leave now. There is a car downstairs. Security is going to push the press back, but they, the, um, the PR people say you need to go before even more show up. Maybe even helicopters…”

Sergio grits his teeth. “Right. Where am I going?”

Toni looks uncomfortable. He throws a look towards the door, where Piqué is standing, arms crossed, face dark, every muscle stiff with anger. “His place.” Toni says quietly. “They say it’s the best. And you need to talk. They - they say I can’t come.”

Sergio closes his eyes. Opens them again. Takes a deep breath, then another. “Of course not.” He says quietly, and _hates_ them. Hates Barca’s PR people who think it’s a smart idea to make him go to Piqué’s house, his den, instead of to neutral ground like a hotel room. Hates Real’s PR people for not having his back. Hates Piqué for what he did, hates Toni for not being allowed to come… and hates _himself_ for how fucking stupid he was that he went and got himself fucking _mated_ by fucking Gerard _Piqué_. This is nothing but one giant, fucked up shithole of a situation… and that’s putting it mildly.

But Sergio knows: there is nothing he can do right now. Not a single damn thing. He’s _stuck_ . And while he wants to rant and rage and fight and resist, he knows it won’t help. It’s happened, it’s done, and they’ll have to figure out how to deal with this. How to _fix_ it. How to clean up this mess and _fix it_ …

Toni’s face is a mask of worry and embarrassed helplessness when Sergio turns to face him fully. He doesn’t resist when Sergio, carefully, leans in to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, wraps an equally careful arm around Sergio’s back and gives him the lightest, most careful and apologetic hug Sergio has ever gotten from any Alpha. Sergio manages a hint of a smile when Toni lets him go, but it drops away as soon as his gaze falls on the door. Piqué is standing there, face dark, eyes furious, and Barca’s PR people are there as well. All of them Alphas, all of them sneering. 

Right. Sergio raises his chin, steels his back. Meets their gazes head on, not cowering, not backing down in the slightest. He’s Sergio fucking Ramos, the Omega who made Captain of the best team in the world, and they don’t scare him one bit.

Sergio snarls at them as he walks towards the door and then sneers too when he sees some of them take a step back. He shoulders his way through the PR people, hating that he has to, that they don’t just let him pass. Piqué follows him out the door.

He doesn’t say a word and doesn’t try to touch Sergio at all while they walk down the stairs, towards the press. Towards the mayhem that is waiting, the sharks eager to bite into Sergio’s tender flesh. The vultures that are circling, circling… through them, head ducked low to avoid the camera flashes, ignoring the curious and insulting and sometimes downright degrading questions they yell out. Security is there, but they have a hard time holding the press back, eager as they are with the scent of blood in the air. Sergio ducks low, pushes forward, fends off grabbing hands and vicious comments, and gets into the waiting car as quickly as he can. Piqué follows right behind, slams the car door shut, but it doesn’t drown out the voices outside, getting louder and louder and closer and closer and -

“Just fucking drive!” Sergio yells and, thankfully, the driver obeys, with screeching tires the car shoots off towards the street. Sergio puts his hands over his face and moans, scared and worried and fucking helpless. So fucking helpless. What is he supposed to do now? What? What can he even do? Nothing… Sergio can’t think of a single thing. He’s… lost. Helpless. _Lost_. He needs… needs…

The car ride is silent. Piqué doesn’t touch Sergio once for the entire ride. It’s fine. Sergio doesn’t want him to anyway, really.

It’s fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISE, Geri is not the villain in this, so don't be scared, fellow Geri fans. I love him a lot, I just enjoy making my boys suffer. Wait for the next chapter, that will be from his POV...
> 
> PS: I'm German. All the stuff about personal spaces is true, even without the whole Alpha/Omega thing... :P


	2. Chapter Two - Gerard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks in italics. Hope you like!

Geri stands in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil. He’s making tea, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

Ramos is upstairs, in the shower. Not in the main bathroom, there’s another one off the guest bedroom, and that’s where Geri showed him, pointed out the towels, and then left him to it. And now he’s standing in his kitchen and doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t want Ramos here. Not in his own house, in his own space, a space that does not fit Sergio Ramos because Geri never _made_ any space for him. He’s never needed to. Sure, they mostly get along on La Roja, but La Roja is different. It’s a temporary pack united by a common goal, but it’s temporary. It’s a break from normalcy. And once international break is over, things go back to how they always were and always will be. And Geri and Ramos will stop getting along…

The main reason for that is obvious, of course. Barca and Real, Real and Barca, rival teams in the league, rival packs fighting for victory. Any game is exciting, but the Clasico is _intense_ . There’s nothing like it. It’s not just a game… it’s _war_. You never just play, you _fight._ You don’t just want to win, you want to _destroy_. And… If you lose, it doesn’t just rankle, it _hurts_. It hurts. And this game today -

_Geri’s seething, barely keeps himself from snarling, wants to punch the wall or punch someone, wants to rage and roar and yell and argue because they didn’t deserve this, they didn’t, they should have won, they should have beaten Real_ down _, and yet…_

 _Fucking Ramos. Fucking Sergio Ramos with his last minute goals, Geri would almost be impressed if he wasn’t so damn_ furious _. It wasn’t even a foul, it shouldn’t have been a freekick, fucking ref, and then Geri messed up and ter Stegen messed up and Sergio_ fucking _Ramos was there at the worst time, in the worst place and then -_

 _Geri snarls quietly and paces around the room. He’s supposed to sit down and let the suppressants wear off slowly, but he’s too riled up, too pissed off to stay still. Fucking day, fucking game, fucking drug tests too because Geri wants to get out of here, wants to be with his team so they can commiserate together… or be in Real’s dressing room so he can_ punch _someone in his_ stupid _face._

_And then he’d probably get sued for assault._

_Alphas and Omegas can play together, as long as they’re all on heavy suppressants so there’s no chance of anything untoward happening during a game. But even so there are certain rules in effect and an Alpha injuring an Omega? During a game it could be blamed on adrenaline and the rush of the battle, but outside of that? Sure, society recognizes an Alpha’s biological need to assert dominance, but they’ve come a long way from the time when it was considered normal for Alphas to get into violent fights that more often than not ended with one of them bleeding - or worse. Alphas these days (most, at least) no longer kill to assert their dominance, they no longer take any Omegas they want without asking, they’re_ evolved _. Sure, in many aspects of human life there are still customs that seem rather archaic to the enlightened man - sports for sure, boxing, rugby and yes, football too. A team is also always a pack, and a rival team is also always a rival pack. A home game is still in some ways the home pack defending its territory, and a game is still a fight. Not only for the Alphas on the team. Ramos is a good example, actually. One of the few Omegas to make team captain and therefore pack leader, an Omega who snarls like an Alpha when he tackles (takes down) an opponent, who doesn’t shy away from going up against the biggest Alphas - and who seems to have made it his_ mission _to try to ruin Geri’s and Barca’s lives. It’s impressive, Geri can’t deny that, not many people (Alpha_ or _Omega) have the balls to do what Ramos does, but Geri still can’t fucking stand_ _the man, that vicious, smirking, fouling, goal-scoring_ asshole _._

_And he definitely wants to punch him right in his fucking face. But he doesn’t - because yeah, that’d be a sure-fire way to get sued in less than three seconds. Even if that Omega deserves it, like Sergio (fucking) Ramos._

_So Geri paces and paces some more, completely ignoring the anti-doping guy sitting patiently in a corner, keeping an eye on Geri like the fucking anti-doping rules require him to. Geri’s been randomly selected for today’s test, oh joy, and now he gets to stay here even longer and wait for the fucking suppressants to wear off (they mess with the results or something, Geri doesn’t care) instead of getting to go back to his team where he can talk shit about Real and plan how they’re gonna kick_ all _their asses next time. It fucking sucks._

 _It_ sucks _, because Geri’s still riled up from the game, full of adrenaline with nowhere to go for it, still high on the pressure of the fight. Nerves singing, still demanding that he watch out for the slightest threat, that he move, run, act, defend, protect. Skin buzzing because he didn’t get to shower yet and he can smell himself, the sweat and strain and effort, can smell the Alpha pheromones starting to leak through; he can smell the grass on his clothes, he can smell others on his clothes too from tackles and fights and fouls and random touches. His pack, he can smell_ them _, that subtle change all their scents made once they became a proper part of the team - and foreign scents as well, strange scents tainting his jersey, a whiff of_ other _. A faint scent of_ rival _._

 _Geri growls and paces, blood heating, heart beating faster. If they had won the game it would be different, but they lost, and so his blood thrums in his ears, his heart thuds heavily, and his entire body is spoiling for a_ fight _. An urge, a need with no way to relieve it, because even with that hunger inside of him Geri knows not to attack the doping guy. So he paces and then paces some more, restless and riled up, and almost wishes that he could pace straight to Real’s dressing room because then at least he’d have someone to fight._

The electric kettle shuts off with a sudden click that seems far too loud in the silent house, Geri flinches hard and is ripped from his not so pleasant memories. He rubs a hand over his face (get a grip, Piqué) and reaches for the kettle. As he’s just started pouring water into the two waiting cups, he realizes he’s forgotten to add any tea bags… perfect. Just _perfect_. Geri growls low under his breath and sets the kettle back down. What a _stupid_ fucking day.

Still no sign or sound from Ramos. He might just as well not even be here, he’s so quiet, but Geri knows he is. He’s aware of him even from a whole different floor, even with several walls and doors between them. There’s a faint scent lingering too, in the hallway where Ramos’ jacket hangs neatly on a hook and his shoes sit neatly along the wall (Geri’s, meanwhile, are thrown into a random corner as usual), drifting into the kitchen and tickling Geri’s nose. He wrinkles it, then rubs it, trying to get the tingle to stop. Doesn’t really work.

Geri wants to go upstairs and check on Ramos and he hates it. He hates that he wants to see the man, make sure he’s okay. Hates these fucking urges, that fucking biological imperative, you gotta provide for your mate, protect him, take care of him. You gotta take care of him even if he’s Sergio fucking Ramos, even if you didn’t want _any_ of this shit. _Fuck_.

He doesn’t even really know what happened, or why. It’s all a bit of a haze… But how? Why? _How_? Well, that part probably isn’t actually that hard to figure out.

Sure, if he’s perfectly honest, he’s never truly hated Ramos, except in those rare 90 minutes where they face off against each other - or when that asshole talks smack to the press or tweets some shit Geri can’t let slide and he then has to deal with a million angry Ramos fans who come after him. Still, he’s never truly hated him. Detested him, yes. Disliked him intensely, sure. Wished he would just go fuck around with his horses and leave football entirely, oh yes. Wanted to kick him where it hurts the most after Ramos had once again gone straight for Messi, definitely. But Geri’s never truly hated him. Has even admired him, a little bit, now and then. That Decima goal was pretty awesome, even a die-hard culé can admit that (but only in secret). Ramos is a good Capi on La Roja too, it’s true. And they work well together for Spain (once they’ve figured out how to get along without murdering each other, that is). Sure, Geri is ready to punch Ramos about 7 times per day and willing to kick his stupid teeth in at least 5 times per week. But there’s respect there anyway. Grudging respect, yes, but respect nonetheless. He’s pretty sure Ramos feels the same way about Geri too.

So, maybe there’s a connection there after all, between them. One they didn’t look for and certainly not one that would ever had led to anything even remotely like this on any normal day. Just a small connection, a smattering of “I can work with this asshole, if I have to” or something like that. That might explain why they didn’t end up killing each other and instead they… well. Ended up like this.

Okay, so. The ‘why’ might be answered now: Sergio Ramos is a fucking asshole, but one Geri sort of respects and does not actually hate, so they ended up fucking instead of fucking each other _up_. And the how? Well, that one’s a bit tougher to answer.

Most of it is a haze, anyway. Geri’s not sure what exactly happened. He does know someone fucked up - let an Alpha and an Omega from rival teams, both off suppressants for the doping test, into the same room. Shoulda known something would happen. Shoulda known. Stupidest thing that ever happened.

Geri doesn’t remember much. He knows the door opened and there Sergio was, Geri got up to give him a piece of his mind about the freekick bullshit, and then -

Geri frowns and rubs his forehead, trying to remember. There was something, something about Sergio’s scent, dark and musky and inviting, new and fresh and exciting, and Geri realizes this was the first time he’s ever _smelled_ Sergio properly. They’ve always been on suppressants before, when they met. Always. Geri remembers he smelled Sergio and he jerked to a stop and then Sergio looked at him and -

_I_ _t’s like a punch in the gut, that look, that dark gaze from burning eyes, fire in Sergio’s eyes and fire in Geri’s stomach, sudden and all-consuming, rising, swallowing him whole. He tries to resist but it’s futile, it’s useless, because that look in Sergio’s eyes is a suckerpunch, it’s a kick in the head, it’s a rope suffocatingly tight around Geri’s neck, it_ yanks _at him, brutally hard, pulling him closer to Sergio, closer, closer, need to touch, need to have, need to,_ need _-_

_Geri manages to resist for all of ten seconds. And then it’s over._

_It’s over._

He’s not sure who threw the first punch, isn’t sure who kissed whom first. He doesn’t remember how they did it, doesn’t even remember sinking his teeth into the neck Sergio was offering so eagerly. There’s a faint taste of blood in his mouth ( _sweet blood, oh, so sweet, so_ right _, fire in his mouth, down his throat, a voice that is not his own shouting in bliss and he himself shouting too_ ) but that might also be from when Sergio punched him in the face afterwards. They mated, yeah. But it seems a lot like neither of them actually wanted to.

So here they are. Gerard Piqué and Sergio Ramos. Accidentally mated. And now?

That’s the big one, isn’t it? That’s the tough question. What the hell are they supposed to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention yet that I enjoy cliffhangers? :P


	3. Chapter Three - Sergio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's a short one this time. More soon though, I promise. And... Did I tell you I like cliffhangers? Because I do. Just a warning.

Sergio makes himself turn off the water once he finally can’t deny any longer that he’s _hiding_ in the shower and not just showering. He wraps a towel around his hips, not bothering to dry off. He doesn’t even do anything with his hair, he’s not in the mood. He just stands there, in Piqué’s guest bathroom, and looks at himself in the mirror.

He’s bruised all over. From the game and from - from what happened afterwards. It wasn’t a gentle mating, like the ones you see in romantic movies, the ones your parents tell you about so you won’t get scared. Where it’s all soft, sweet whispers and confessions of love, gentle hands and gasps and sighs… With Piqué, it wasn’t anything like that. But that’s probably not surprising, considering their history. Or their characters. Or both. Maybe it was inevitable that it would go like this…

At least the bite mark looks better. It’s no longer bleeding, it barely even hurts anymore either. That’s good, of course. But shit, it’s _deep_ . No way Sergio’s gonna be able to pretend it’s not there. He can feel it too, every time he moves his head. There’s a soft pulse of sorts, an ache. Like he wants _someone_ to press his mouth there and kiss it and -

Sergio turns around and leaves the bathroom.

***

He brought his bag, so he has some spare clothes to put on. That makes him feel better - as if the jeans and nice, soft sweater are an armour. He’s going to have to face Piqué at some point, no point denying that, so he needs to be ready. Needs to _look_ ready, at least. Maybe he should do something about his hair after all. It wouldn’t do if Sergio looked anything less than his best, right? He needs to appear confident for this - and not like he’s mentally shitting himself because he just doesn’t know what the _fuck_ he’s supposed to do…

He ends up styling his hair carefully after all, making sure it looks good. He tries not to, but his eyes keep straying back to the mating bite.

***

Sergio’s stalling, re-packing his bag and folding his clothes. He checks if he left the bathroom in okay shape. Mops up some water that spilled from the shower. Folds the towel, then unfolds it and hangs it over the rail. Looks through Piqué’s selection of guest toiletries. Re-packs his bag in a slightly different way. And is stalling like a fucking coward.

He can do this. He fucking can do this. He has to.

***

Sergio finds Piqué in the living room. He looks small like this, curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest. He looks small and… vulnerable. Not a sight Sergio is used to seeing, and something tugs at him, makes him take another step into the room. Piqué hasn’t noticed him yet, gazing off into the distance. Two cups are on the table in front of him, steaming gently. One for Piqué, obviously, and… one for Sergio.

He takes another step closer.

Piqué’s head snaps up, he looks at Sergio, wide-eyed with surprise. Just lost in thought? Or shocked Sergio would even want to be in the same room with him?

Piqué makes to get up, then decides against it and stays seated. Then he seems to think better of it and scoots to the side to make room on the couch. Sergio almost smiles when he sees it - seems like someone else is just as lost as he is, just as unsure about what to do.

He doesn’t smile, though. He stays where he is, near the door, and crosses his arms. “So.” He says and hides a wince when he hears how rough his voice sounds. “Guess we should talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dunn dunn dunn!! Told you...


	4. Chapter Four - Gerard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the updated rating. It doesn't apply for this chapter just yet, but will apply soon. The warnings might change too, but I don't want to give too much away yet...  
> And btw: Not too sure about the chapter count yet, there might be more than 8, we shall see if the boys behave like they're supposed to or take me down unplanned roads.

Ramos looks - defensive. Face blank, arms crossed, his entire body tense and stiff. He doesn’t sit, stays near the door. Easy escape, if he needs it…

It bugs Geri more than he expected.

“Guess we should.” He says, wants to cross his arms too, but he forces himself not to. Doesn’t want to make this even more uncomfortable than it already is. And… he doesn’t want to show weakness.

“I made tea.” He adds lamely, doesn’t know what else to say. Doesn’t know what the hell to do. He’s not ready for this…

_First time they meet, really meet, is for a Clasico. Not during the game, but before, during the warm up. Geri’s doing his thing, trying to complete all the exercises and look good during so El Mister won’t regret putting him in the line-up, nervous and excited and thrilled and scared at the same time. This is Madrid, this is the Bernabeu… this is going to be special. He’s too distracted, too wrapped up in the whirlwind of emotions to really pay attention to his surroundings and strays too far from his own people, too close to where Real are warming up._

_A long-haired Real player comes at him, eyes flashing, pushes him backwards. Geri’s caught off-balance, stumbles, falls down on his ass. The Real guy stands above him, almost snarling - Geri’s nonplussed at first, doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand why. Then he realizes: he strayed into Real’s territory. Not a good idea, not before a match. There’s a reason why the two opposing teams warm up on opposite ends of the pitch…_

_Geri scrambles to his feet. He’s young, he’s a hothead, and he was attacked. He gets into the guy’s face, right into his face, shoves him back. The guy retaliates and, under the oohs and aahs of a crowd smelling blood, they get into their first fight. It needs four men to pull them apart._

_Ramos doesn’t get to play that match. Maybe Real’s Mister decided he wasn’t going to risk him and Geri meeting on the pitch, or maybe he knew his hothead defender was already too riled up. Geri gets to play, but he also gets a stern talking-to by his captains. It’s not a nice experience at all. It doesn’t really make Geri keep a completely cool head the next times they play Real, but it does make him at least try._

_Not that it helps much. The next time he and Ramos meet, Ramos does the one thing that is sure to make Geri (and any of the Alphas on Barca’s team) get mad at you: he fouls Messi. It does not endear him to Barca’s pack, and it definitely doesn’t endear him to Geri either._

_They get into more fights. On the pitch, before a game, after a game, on social media. That’s just how it goes._

“Wanna sit?” Geri offers and gestures at the empty space on the couch next to him. One of them should try to stay level-headed here, try to keep things civil. They’ll have to get along, now. They’ll have to learn _how_.

Ramos uncrosses his arms, but only to ball his fists. “No, I do not want to fucking sit down!” He hisses. “I don’t even fucking want to be here!”

Geri feels a growl rising in his throat - he was trying to be _polite_ here!

“Fine!” He hisses back, temper flaring. That asshole! “As if I care! You think I want you here?! You think I wanted this?!”

He didn’t - he _didn’t_. Yes, Geri wanted a mate, has wanted one for a long time. Yes, Ramos is the type he’d like - strong and stubborn, doesn’t take shit, doesn’t back down, managed to fight his way to the top of one of the most vicious packs in all of Spain, with a head of his own and a stubborn streak a mile wide. Not the things some Alphas would go for, who prefer a soft, meek little thing who will be content to let their Alpha lead. Geri’s never wanted that - he doesn’t need a plaything, he needs a _partner_. Someone strong enough to keep him engaged and keep him in check too. Geri’s stubborn, can be a real asshole, he knows this, and he knows he needs an Omega who can handle that. By all means Ramos would be the perfect match - but Geri still didn’t want any of this. They don’t even like each other, for fuck’s sake! And as much as Ramos’ stubborn streak and temper might usually intrigue Geri, the guy is too much of an _ass_ to be in any way enticing. He’s just so - fucking -

_It’s worse on La Roja. They suddenly have to work together, train together,_ live _together. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. They come to blows, of course they do. Ramos says some nasty shit, Geri says some shit back. Ramos doesn’t back down, Geri doesn’t back down either and suddenly Ramos is stumbling back, clutching a bloody nose. Geri expects him to hit back, they’ll settle this in a fight, it’s almost inevitable. Things have led up to this, surely? Two rivals butting heads, vying for dominance. Trying to establish their ranks in this temporary pack, Alphas fighting it out, that sort of thing… He expects Ramos to hit back._

_Instead he’s suddenly pulled back by two teammates, shoved against a wall, told to fucking stay put, what the hell do you think you’re doing, assaulting him. Geri doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get why Casillas is there suddenly, yelling about assault. Why Andres looks at him like that, so shocked, so accusing. He doesn’t get it… not until they explain it to him._

_He didn’t know. He didn’t know Ramos was an Omega. He’d thought - he’d assumed - with the way Ramos attacked him, he was just so sure the guy was an Alpha too. With the suppressants they all wear religiously whenever they’re around anyone they don’t consider a pack member there’s no way Geri could have known, right? He didn’t exactly read up on the guy or check his Wikipedia entry for his height and weight and gender or whatever. He didn’t care enough to find out and why would he. Ramos is Real, and even if they play together on La Roja now, Geri doesn’t give a shit about him, really. So it’s logical that he just assumed what he saw was true, right?_

_But it wasn’t. Ramos is not an Alpha. He’s an Omega._

_Later, he apologizes. He has to - they make him. He feels guilty anyway. Ramos is an Omega… Ramos doesn’t appreciate it. Sneers at Geri when he says sorry. Eyes flashing and fists balled, asks him if Geri is only sorry because he now knows Ramos is an Omega. If he now thinks Ramos is weak… Geri does the only thing he can: he punches Ramos right in his sneering face._

_In retrospect it was the best thing he could have done. Ramos punches him back, and that’s it. The score is settled._

_They don’t exactly get along, but they can work together now. Ramos knows Geri won’t take any of his shit (he never did, never will), and Geri knows not to give Ramos the feeling that he sees him as inferior. Well, he does, but that’s because Barca is obviously far superior to anything and anyone belonging to Real, and not because Sergio is an Omega. If anything Geri now respects Ramos a tiny bit more. Not every Omega would get into fistfights with Alphas. Ramos is still an asshole. But yeah, there’s some mutual respect now. A tiny bit._

“Look.” Geri says, trying his damnedest to calm himself down, trying to make his voice even and not hostile - not as hostile as Ramos’ anyway. “ _You_ don’t want to be here, _I_ don’t want to be here. But the fact is, we’re here now. We’re stuck with… this. And we fucking gotta figure out how to deal with it. For your sake and my sake and for the sake of our clubs. Alright? Can you at least _try_ to work with me here?”

Ramos glares at Geri for long seconds. Then he takes a deep breath and his shoulders slump. “Fine.” He growls. “Fine, _fuck_!”

Ramos walks over to the couch, sits down. He glares at Geri and then picks up one of the cups of tea.

Geri relaxes a little. Then -

“I’m not fucking switching to Barca though. You can forget that right away, _not_ happening. And you don’t get to tell me to quit football and be your cutesy little trophy Omega, and if you think you can _make_ me, you can go fuck yourself.”

Well, _fuck you too_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISE there is hope for them, I promise. But I am evil and a bad person and love angst way too much, so it will be a little longer before these idiots start actually figuring shit out.


	5. Chapter Five - Sergio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, there was Christmas and then New Year's and my family infected me with the plague and now I have a cold and my beta has a cold... So yeah. Here we go though...  
> PS: I feel like I don't need to warn you about my love for cliffhangers anymore?  
> PPS: Serious shoutout to [zilldk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zilldk/pseuds/zilldk) for going over this chapter with me at 4 in the morning. I'm going to bed now! :D

Sergio is _boiling_ , blood hot, heart beating, he’s seething at the mere _thought_ of Piqué trying to take football away from him - trying to take Sergio’s _life_ away from him. Sergio wouldn’t be the first Omega prevented from playing football, there are emancipation laws now but Omegas still earn less than Alphas, still face prejudice and dismissal. Not just in football, of course, but there too. An Omega surely can’t compete with _Alphas_ , an Omega surely isn’t strong or fast enough to succeed on a _proper_ team. An Omega as the _captain_? Laughable. How would they ever be able to lead a pack when by nature they’re meant to be subservient to their Alpha?

_There are murmurs when Sergio joins Real, interested murmurs as well as condescending ones. Young Sergio Ramos already has a name in Sevilla, the little firecracker defender who scored a goal against the mighty Real, the young hotspur talisman of his team. He’s good, yes, but is he good enough for Real? After all, he’s an Omega…_

_Sergio arrives, head held high, in a white suit that is very obviously_ not _an understatement. He’s an Omega, yes, but he’s fucking_ Sergio Ramos _, and they will all learn to respect him._

 _He’s still young though, and his bravado masks uncertainty and lack of experience. Good thing Iker is there, grumpy and wary at first of the young Omega who suddenly decided to attach himself to his side (Iker is grumpy, yes, but Sergio thinks Iker smells like René, like family, he smells_ kind _, and Sergio is lonely and persistent)._

_Iker warms up quickly though, or Sergio wears him down, big eyes following Iker everywhere, playful hands tugging on Iker, trying to get him to join a joke, a game, and Iker can argue as much as he wants, but he does love the attention. Sergio does too, thrives on it, loving the knowledge he’s one of the very few people who can get Iker to smile._

_Iker helps him settle in, even if he yells at Sergio a lot (mostly undeservedly, or so Sergio thinks, Iker of course would vehemently disagree). He’s taken Sergio under his wing, older Alpha chaperoning the young Omega, and it doesn’t take long before Sergio’s family starts asking questions. Iker Casillas, you say? Oh, but he does seem like_ such _a good man…_

 _Sergio, of course, scoffs at the mere suggestion that there’s anything more between him and Iker. He’s here to play football, he’s not looking for a mate. Everybody knows mated Omegas don’t get to play much anymore. A coach might not admit it, but some, unconsciously, tend to keep mated Omegas on the bench. Safe from injury. Protected._ Sheltered _. Sergio does not want to be sheltered._

 _It’s never been like this, between him and Iker. It comes close, once, when Sergio is young and stupid and doesn’t pay attention to his cycle. When he goes into heat and has forgotten to take precautions… When he sees Iker’s big hands and kind eyes and his body decides that he wants. That he_ needs _._

_Iker says no. Once, twice, a dozen times, holding a shivering, shaking, crying Sergio close, listens to him plead and beg and still says no. For hours. Sergio got weak, but Iker stays strong, for him._

_Sergio can’t look at Iker for a full week afterwards. He’s too embarrassed. Until Iker corners him one day and puts him straight. You’re Sergio, he says. You’re_ you _, not your gender. Remember that._

 _It’s never been like that between them. Even if, sometimes, Sergio thinks that if he would take a mate, he would take Iker. He’d be the only one he would want. If… if. But there is football, there is the team, there are trophies to win, games to play, battles to fight. Football comes first, always, or so Sergio thinks. Omegas who have a mate don’t get to play as much. And so Sergio will not take a mate. Because football is everything he’s ever wanted. Dreamed about. Longed for. This team, these games, these battles, these trophies. They’re all that matter. If he feels a pang of longing when he sees Nando mate, sees Iker mate? Then he suppresses it. He’s fought long and hard to get where he is now. He won’t throw that away. Not even for a mate. The loneliness? He can deal. He always has. He doesn’t_ need _a mate. He doesn’t need anybody._

_He doesn’t._

Yes, Sergio’s fought long and hard to get where he is - being an Omega and a part of the most vicious pack in the world. And being their captain too. He’s worked hard, he’s fought, he’s had to give up parts of himself he didn’t want to give up… to get where he is now. Necessary sacrifices to fulfill his life-long dream… And now it might all be over. And Sergio can’t handle the fear that it might.

He looks at Piqué, wants to yell, wants to grab him and shake him and make him understand. Don’t take this away from me. Don’t. _Please_.

But he can’t say it. He can’t. There’s something in his chest that prevents him from speaking, a big, hot ball of something, a tension rising that makes his skin tingle and his fingers twitch. Sergio swallows and then swallows again, feeling his heart thud, beat rapidly, faster and faster. Adrenaline, fight or flight, because Piqué’s getting up from his seat now, rising, advancing. Towering over Sergio and he hates that he has to look up to the Alpha, hates that he’s just that little bit shorter. Hates that he’s here, in Piqué’s den, his Alpha cave, everything around him smelling like Alpha, like Piqué, like mate…

“Fuck you!” Piqué hisses and Sergio jerks, surprised. “Fuck you, Ramos, you fucking asshole. Do you really think I would do that?! Do you think so low of me? I should have known! Of course you’d think you’re the only victim here, you fucking _prick_! Did you ever stop to think about what this means for _me_ , huh? Huh, Ramos? You didn’t, did you?! Everything always has to be about _you_ , you stubborn, egotistical bastard! You think I wanted this? I wanted _you_? Think again, asshole, because I’d rather have _died_ than mated _you_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwahaha. Mwahaha! Things are going to blow up in the next chapter, just you wait...


	6. Chapter Six - Gerard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The explosion...

Ramos’ punch comes out of nowhere.

It catches Geri right in the face and he stumbles back, hits the coffee table and almost goes down. He only just manages to steady himself and by the time he has, Ramos is already on him. Geri didn’t expect him to lash out… but maybe he should have.

In retrospect Geri maybe shouldn’t have hit back. Maybe he should have kept his cool, let Ramos work off some steam. He should have controlled his temper. He should have, he should have.

He doesn’t. He fights back.

***

It’s a vicious fight, egged on by frustration and worry, anger and denial about their situation. It’s a frustrated, helpless fight, a way to deal with the pressure, the best and worst way to handle it. It’s a vicious, brutal fight, neither of them holding back. Neither of them _can_ hold back. There’s no way out. No way out…

It’s Sergio who changes the rules. Of course it is, Geri will think later, Sergio scoffs at any rules he doesn’t like and seems to take great delight in skirting them. Maybe he’s just looking for a way out, a way to come out victorious. Or maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s trying to dig _deeper_.

Geri has to use all his strength to keep Sergio down, to keep the fists away from his body, already covered in bruises and sore spots. He’s bleeding, so is Sergio, and oh, they will feel this tomorrow. They don’t feel it now, though. Right now all they feel is anger.

Geri has Sergio pinned, using his bulk to keep him in place, doesn’t have a plan how to calm him down, doesn’t think further than the next five seconds and then the five after that, where he has to make sure Sergio can’t get up again, can’t fight him again. He leans down close to growl into Sergio’s face, the Omega just glares back, growls back, seemingly not intimidated in the slightest, meeting Geri’s challenge head on. The part of Geri that is not seething with anger and frustration is impressed. That part, however, is right now very small. Until -

Until Sergio kisses him.

Suddenly kisses him, out of nowhere, surging upwards, teeth bared. Mouths pressed together, a furious kiss, hot and angry, more teeth than tongue, Geri flinching when teeth break skin and blood fills his mouth. He flinches back and then... then he kisses back.

Growls, snapping teeth, fingers digging into soft skin. Nails like claws over Geri’s back, Sergio’s legs wrapping around him and a _shift_ and a _surge_ and suddenly Geri is on his back. Sergio on top, leaning down, hair a mess, face smeared with blood, a wild light in his eyes. Geri stares up at him, throat dry, blood trickling from his mouth. Sergio’s eyes narrow, flashing darkly, a warning? An invitation? And then he smiles. A wicked smile. A _wild_ smile.

Geri shouts when Sergio leans down, bites his chest, sinks his teeth into the soft skin around his nipple. He grabs Sergio, rolls them over, pins him back down. Sergio laughs at him, squirms just to be a tease, the asshole, and spreads his legs.

“Come on then.” He says, wickedly teasing, the gaze in his eyes an invitation, a _threat._ “Come on.”

Geri has to hold him down. Sergio wants it, oh, he does, but he doesn’t want to just give in. He wants to be _made_. Maybe it’s easier for him that way? Or maybe he needs Geri to prove himself? He fought Geri, earlier. Rolled them over so he was on top. Maybe this is a fight for him too. A show of strength. Sergio has always had to be strong for himself. Maybe he just needs someone who can match him.

Geri stops thinking when he has Sergio naked. Has him spread out, golden and gorgeous, glowing skin littered with tattoos, a piece of art on display. Sergio notices Geri’s loss of conscious thought and laughs at him, merciless, taunting, but his legs spread wider and he pushes up, offering. Geri doesn’t need to be asked twice.

***

It’s brutal, vicious, just like their fight. Sergio’s wet enough, ready enough, but Gerard is big and it must _hurt_. Sergio hisses when he pushes in and bites down on his own hand, but even so the pained noise escapes and, shuddering, Geri stops moving. He’s riled up and almost beside himself with anger and lust, but he doesn’t want to hurt Sergio…

When he stops, Sergio hits him for it. A punch straight to the side of his face, Geri’s head jerks sideways, pain blossoms behind his left temple and he yelps. Sergio growls at him again, eyes flashing a warning - either Geri gets going or Sergio will make him pay. Geri nods, once. Message received.

Sergio’s eyes narrow in satisfaction. Then he tightens his legs around Geri and _pulls_ him in.

Geri groans, shaking, sliding deeper into hot wet _tight,_ feels Sergio’s body opening up around him, _forced_ open. He’s big but Sergio takes him, eagerly, greedily, moaning in approval when Geri _knows_ he must be hurting, moaning for more when Geri _knows_ it must be too much. He’s wet, yes, but not wet enough. Or is he? Because Sergio tightens around him and he pushes _up_ and suddenly Geri slips in even deeper.

He stills there, buried all the way, and stares at Sergio. Sergio stares back, eyes crinkled in pain but mouth curved into a smile. Geri stares, Sergio stares back… and then he moans. Long, loud, throws his head back and moans. Throat bared for Geri, exposed, ready, inviting. Sergio moans and Geri… Geri -

There’s no holding back now. Not anymore. He _can’t_. He starts moving, thrusting, deep and fast, deeper and faster, until he’s slamming into Sergio, fucking him hard enough to bruise. Slides deep into that tight, wonderful heat, over and over, and Sergio just moans and eggs him on. Geri lowers his head, mouth just barely skimming Sergio’s lips, pants for breath, feels Sergio’s breath on his own face. Sergio’s arms and legs around him, holding him tight, fingers on his back, _in_ his back, the Omega’s nails digging deep. Geri shudders and moves, thrusts, _fucks_ , can’t hold back, can’t hold back at all.

Heat around him, underneath him, everywhere, and he loves that they’re face to face, that he can watch, see what’s playing out on Sergio’s face, every minute change of expression. See every gasp, hear every moan, feel every twitch of that body taking him in so deep, so deep. Geri moves, faster, harder, and Sergio only moans.

It doesn’t take long. It can’t… not after everything that’s happened. It doesn’t take long, but oh, how Geri wishes it would. Alas he’s helpless, he can’t prevent it, eventually it must end. He comes, with a shout, a scream, fucks deep into Sergio’s willing, waiting body and thinks he might pass out from the shock. Whitehot bliss, a wave, an explosion, and he feels wetness on his belly that announces Sergio has come as well.

Geri slumps down onto Sergio, all strength suddenly gone. His knot has formed, sealing the act, claiming Sergio’s hole as surely as Geri’s unwanted bite has claimed his throat. But Sergio wanted it this time, didn’t he? He _must_ have… he started this.

All thoughts go away then when, suddenly, darkness looms. Geri slips under. And he feels a thing before he does. But surely he must have imagined it…

A hand, featherlight, cupping his cheek.


	7. Chapter Seven - Sergio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugest thanks to the amazing [zilldk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zilldk/pseuds/zilldk), who made this so much better and who I also kept nagging and poking and prodding about all of this. You are THE COOLEST! :P

They can’t quite look at each other afterwards.

It’s awkward as fuck while they’re waiting for the knot to recede, it’s awkward as fuck as they eventually separate. It’s still awkward as fuck once Sergio’s in the downstairs bathroom, cleaning up. His clothes are ruined, and his body doesn’t exactly look unblemished either. There’s a whole new collection of bruises now…

Sergio prods at a distinctly handprint-shaped mark and thinks that he even _feels_ bruised. Sore, not just physically. Mentally too. He’s _exhausted_. This was a bad, bad idea, doing this. This is only going to make things worse, isn’t it? But Sergio - he just couldn’t help it. There was just something that made him… like back at the Bernabeu. When the door opened and there he was, Piqué, Gerard, looking like a predator, smelling like one, pacing the room like a caged tiger, eyes flashing, nostrils flaring, teeth bared… And Sergio, oh. He was drawn in. He was _drawn in._

Gerard was drawn in too, wasn’t he? Back then, and just now too. He was trying to hold back, Sergio knows he was. When Sergio was hurting from that first, brutal push, Geri stopped. Tried to, anyway. Because Sergio wouldn’t let him. And Gerard eagerly _took_ when Sergio _offered_ \- and didn’t hold back at all. And Sergio didn’t want him to.

Yes, this probably _was_ a stupid idea. But at least they’ve both been stupid. They’ve always been stupid around each other, _about_ each other. Maybe things have been leading up to something like this for a long time now. Maybe this was… inevitable. Maybe it was.

Still doesn’t mean Sergio is suddenly okay with all this. Being mated. To Gerard Piqué.

There’s a knock on the door, Sergio flinches in surprise. He quickly wraps a towel around his hips, stupid, because what’s the point anyway? Gerard’s already seen it all. “Come in.”

The Alpha looks awkward as he enters, just like Sergio still feels. He has no idea how to handle Gerard. No idea at all.

“I got some clothes for you.” Gerard says and carefully places them onto the shelf next to the door. “Didn’t know if you had any spare stuff to put on, so.”

Sergio steps over to inspect the clothes. A plain white shirt, a grey hoodie, some grey sweatpants. They look rather new, like Gerard hasn’t worn them all that often yet, and they’re freshly washed. They also look soft and comfortable, like they’ll feel nice to wear. They’ll be too big on Sergio of course, especially the pants, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?

“Thanks.” He says and drops the towel to get dressed. Gerard hastily averts his eyes and looks at the ceiling. Sergio’s belly flops weirdly at this (quite unnecessary) attempt to be polite. Gerard’s being _nice_. It’s _weird_.

“No Barca logos anywhere?” Sergio asks while he zips up the hoodie. It smells like laundry detergent, not the one used on Sergio’s clothes, so it’s an unfamiliar smell. It’s nice though, that smell. Kinda comforting. “I would have thought you’d try to put your mark of ownership on me as soon as possible.”

Gerard sighs, his shoulders drop. “Sergio.” He says and gives him a tired stare. “I’m not going to do anything like that. You sound like you think I will tattoo ‘property of Gerard Piqué on your forehead or whatever. I will also not force you to join Barca, and I would love for you to stop assuming I would want to treat you like my fucking _property_.”

He’s out of the room, door slamming shut behind him, before Sergio can say anything in response.

***

Sergio retreats to the guest bedroom again, because he doesn’t know where else to go. He feels like an intruder in Gerard’s home. He doesn’t belong here… 

He lies on the bed, shivering slightly. The blanket is thick enough and the room is plenty warm, but Sergio still feels cold. He can’t seem to get warm. He listens to the unfamiliar sounds of an unfamiliar house, and thinks: I can’t do this. I can’t. I have no idea how.

Sergio grabs his phone, for (distraction) lack of anything better to do. There’s what seems like 100 unread texts and missed phone calls. René, offering to find the best lawyers to get Sergio out of this, even if it’s a longshot. Papa, asking if he’s okay. Toni, wanting to know if there’s anything he needs. Carva, offering to beat Gerard up if Sergio wants him to… And Iker. Asking if Sergio wants him to come to Spain. And then Iker again: _Talk to him_.

Sergio rolls over to his side and stares at his phone’s screen. Talk to him. How can he? What would he even say? He’d look Gerard in the eye and say… what? What would he say?

He has Gerard’s number in his phone. Iker made them all exchange numbers, way back when, on La Roja. He’s never used it, but it’s there. Sergio could… if he wanted, he could… Gerard’s bedroom isn’t far, Sergio’s heard a door open and close nearby. He could go over there. Face the man. But he could also just text. Safely tucked away in this bed, in the dark, where it feels like he’s all alone…

He types, deletes, then types again. Almost doesn’t hit send. Hits send, and instantly regrets it. And lies there, worrying, staring at his screen.

**I want to keep playing football.**

Gerard’s answer is almost instantaneous. _I’m not going to force you to stop._

Sergio bites his lips while he reads, feeling his heart thud faster. **Promise?**

_Promise._

Sergio breathes slowly, in and out. In and out. **Thank you.**

_I’m not an asshole, Sergio._

**I know you’re not,** Sergio types, but doesn’t send it. He deletes the words, types again. **That’s debatable.**

_I hate you too. :)_

Sergio snorts, amused almost despite himself. **Everybody loves me.**

_Keep dreaming, Ramos!_

Sergio snuggles deeper into his pillow. This is… nice, almost. Easy too. Way better than talking face to face. **I’m not moving to Barcelona either.**

_I wasn’t saying you should. We don’t want you here anyway. :P_

Sergio scowls at his phone. **I mean it.**

_I know. You don’t have to. We’ll figure something out._

**You could move to Madrid.**

_ >:( _

**What do you have against Madrid? :D**

_Where to even begin?_

Sergio snorts again. Okay, this is good. Right? This is very good. Easy. Banter, he can do that, no problem. **How about it’s the best city on earth with the best football team on earth?**

_Are you talking about Atletico?_

**Fucker!**

:P

Sergio’s just about to start typing an appropriate (appropriately rude) reply when another text pops up, then several more in rapid succession.

_Hey, Sergio._

_I’m sorry._

_I know you didn’t want this._

_I didn’t either._

_This kinda sucks and I’m sorry._

_Can we try to work this out? Somehow?_

Sergio doesn’t reply right away. He stares at his screen. Closes the chat window and drops his phone onto the mattress before he rolls over to stare at the dark ceiling. Shit.

His phone dings. Sergio wants to ignore it - then reaches for it anyway.

_I’m willing to try if you are. I think. You’re a jerk, but I respect you. Even if you seem to think I’m a complete asshole. Well, you’re an asshole too, so I guess that fits. We can try?_

Sergio chews on his lower lip, thinking. He didn’t want to be mated. He hates that he is. But Gerard made him tea earlier. He’s willing to try. He said he’s not going to make Sergio move to Barcelona, even if he could. The law says he could, as Sergio’s Alpha. He could… but he’s not going to. He brought Sergio clothes and looked away when he got undressed…

Sergio types. Deletes. Types something else. Hits send.

**Your guest bed is crap. And I’m cold.**

Gerard doesn’t text back. He calls instead. Sergio lets him wait for a couple of seconds, just because, then picks up. “Yeah?”

“My guest bed is not crap. It’s the exact same as my own bed.”

Sergio curls into the pillow. “Yeah? I bet yours is better and you put me in here with the shitty bed just to annoy me.”

Gerard snorts. “Not everything I do is designed to annoy you, Ramos.”

“Hmm.” Sergio hums, but doesn’t reply. Gerard doesn’t say anything else either, and they just breathe down the line for a little while. It’s a bit awkward, but… not as awkward as it was earlier. Progress.

“Sergio.” Gerard says then. “Are you really cold?”

Sergio hums in confirmation. “Little bit.”

On the other end of the line Gerard clears his throat. “Do you want to come sleep in my bed?”

Sergio flinches, he can’t help it. Gerard’s bedroom… his den. “Not really.” He admits. “That’d be weird. You know.” He’d be in Gerard’s most private space… Where everything smells like him. This room smells neutral. Gerard’s not been in here a lot. It’s not Sergio’s den of course, but it’s not Gerard’s either.

“Oh. Okay.” Gerard sounds… disappointed? Hurt? Something’s off with his voice. “I just thought…” He clears his throat and falls silent.

Sergio chews on his lip. ‘You’ll chew right through it!’ his Papa used to say, and then he’d reach out and put his fingers on Sergio’s mouth so he’d stop. He used to hate it when Papa did that, but he stops chewing his lip anyway.

“You could…” Sergio starts, then breaks off.

“Yeah?” Gerard says, voice changing again. There’s a bit of hope in it now. “What?”

‘You could come sleep in here.’ Sergio almost says it - almost. He doesn’t say it though, he chickens out. He hangs up. Rolls over, buries his head in his pillow… and wants to _scream._

***

He can’t sleep. Even an hour later he can’t sleep. He’s just lying there, staring at the ceiling, when he hears footsteps outside in the hallway. They come closer, stop right in front of the guest bedroom door. Sergio stiffens and waits with bated breath.

There’s a soft knock. “Sergio?”

He thinks about pretending to be asleep, but instead sits up. “Yeah?”

Gerard’s voice is soft, hesitant. “I can’t sleep. Can I come in?”

Sergio wraps his arms around his knees, ducks his head. Closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Remembers Gerard’s texts. _I’m sorry. Can we try to work this out? I’m willing to try if you are. I’m sorry._

His heart is thudding like crazy. Sergio opens his eyes and takes another deep breath.

“Yeah, come in.” He says and waits for Gerard to open the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is almost it, people. Only one epilogue to go...  
> But, announcement: this will not be the end of this verse. This will actually turn into a series soon, because I still have ideas. Not all stories have yet been told... :)


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it then, the epilogue. I hope you enjoyed the ride so far and will enjoy this last part too. I meant to wait a bit longer before posting this but, well, I'm impatient. Enjoy!  
> Much, much thanks to [zilldk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zilldk/pseuds/zilldk) again for being a wonderful beta and sounding board and not ever getting tired of me even if I kept throwing story parts at her all the damn time and then kept nagging her about them... You rock, darling! Thank you so much, this story wouldn't have been nearly as good (or as much fun to write!) without you!  
> So many thanks also to everybody who commented or kudosed or just read and enjoyed. I started writing this story mostly for myself (and because the idea wouldn't leave me alone), but I continued because of all you lovely people. So thank you very much, this is all your fault! :D  
> PS: Technically there are OCs in this. I made up a Clásico, I made up some football statistics, I also made up some commentators for the game...

_M: Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to this very special evening and this very special game! It’s El Clásico again, the game that divides a nation and I for one am very excited. I am Michael Williamson and with me is, as always, Simon O’Hare. Welcome, Simon!_

S: Thank you, Michael, happy to be here. This will be an exciting evening I’m sure.

_M: Oh yes, oh yes. All of Spain has been buzzing all day, leading up to this evening. This is a clash of titans already, but looking at the league table things are even more interesting today - if Barca wins, they’ll head into international break at the top of the league and if Real wins, they can overtake them. Both teams will be determined to fight their hardest to win, won’t they?_

S: Yes, Michael, they will. They’ve got something to prove, don’t they?

_M: Indeed, indeed. Of course there’s a little extra spice to this game today, we all know what I’m talking about, don’t we? Surely you must have been living under a rock to have missed that whole… interesting affair with Piqué and Ramos after the last time these two teams met a couple of months ago!_

S: You’re talking about them mating?

_M: Yes, indeed I am, Simon. That was a surprise, wasn’t it? A player from Barca mating a player from Real, that is the stuff scandals are made of. Of course they’ve played together for the national team before, but one was still rather a bit surprised to find out they mated. I was also a bit surprised to learn they haven’t tried to break their bond - then again, that’s not an easy decision to make and one would assume they wanted to avoid the fallout of a broken bond…_

S: Yes, the psychological repercussions and the trauma of a broken bond are well-documented of course. And I would also assume the public would not have liked it. Remember back in ‘78, when Ramirez of Boca Juniors broke his bond to Xavier when he transferred to England? That was quite the drama.

_M: You can say that again! Xavier played, what, 15 games in total for Spurs before he was moved to the second team? A sad story, really. He never got a foot in the door again afterwards, did he? And football lost a promising young lad._

S: Yes, that was a shame. Ramirez didn’t play much afterwards either. A string of injuries and then an early retirement. I wonder, Michael, if they regretted their decision?

_M: That’s something for our viewers to speculate about, Simon. Same as what will happen with Piqué and Ramos today - they’re in the line-up, maybe a bit surprisingly, one would assume there’d be hesitation to put them this much into the spotlight on this occasion…_

S: Well, I do think both are integral parts of their team, of course. Piqué really has been invaluable in defense and Ramos - Real’s track record without their captain hasn’t been the best, has it?

_M: Yes, yes, very true. I have the figures here, thank you to our statistics department: with Ramos Real have lost 36% of their games and without him they’ve managed to lose a whopping 58%. They do need their Captain, now more than ever, if they want to beat Barca to the top._

S: Definitely, Michael. He’s proven himself worthy of the armband after he took over from the legendary Iker Casillas. Against all odds, I might add!

_M: Oh yes, there have been voices that an Omega might not be able to lead this team, this pack if you will, but he’s gone and proven them all wrong, hasn’t he?_

S: In this day and age it really is disheartening to still see so much bias against Omegas. If I said something like this at home, my Mate would whack me over the head with a shovel, hahahahahaha!

_M: I should explain for our viewers: Simon’s Mate works in construction. Owns his own company, doesn’t he?_

S: Indeed he does. Built it from the ground up, I’m very proud. And I’m not just saying that because he would know plenty of places to bury my body if I crossed him!

_M: Hahahahahaha! Well, Simon, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that! And let’s also hope that Piqué and Ramos don’t get the shovels ready either. It will be interesting to see how they behave around each other during the game. Did you know there have been attempts to keep them from playing? Voices from both sides of the aisle - so to speak - who have suggested that they might not be able to be entirely unbiased about this game. Even going as far as to suggest that Ramos might let Barca win to please his Alpha!_

S: How someone could ever think that is beyond me, Michael. That man has fought for his club and badge for what seems his entire life. Aside from that he doesn’t seem the type to want to please _any_ Alpha. Remember how he went up against Suarez during the last World Cup? That was rather spectacular.

_M: He got sent off for that, if I remember correctly. But yes, not an Omega easily intimidated, that’s for sure. Not by today’s game either, even if he is facing his Mate. Did you see what he said during the press conference?_

S: Something along the lines of ‘Piqué might have given me the bite, but for those 90 plus minutes he’s just any other Barcelona player and if I have to take him down, I will’?

_M: Yes, exactly that, Simon. Piqué said the same thing. And went and added that if Ramos was going to let him win, he’d divorce him! Hahahaha!_

S: Hahahahaha! Those two hotheads are kind of perfect for each other, aren’t they?

_M: Never thought I’d say this, but I agree! Those two certainly seem to have worked out their differences, haven’t they? Of course we can only speculate if the Barca-Real rivalry extends into their private life, but from what we’ve seen they seem to be getting along rather swimmingly these days, and that after years of clashing heads! Apparently time does heal all wounds, as they say. What remains to be seen now is how their relationship will develop!_

S: You’re right, Michael, time will tell. But it's almost time for kick-off now, let's go down to Chad Rogers who is on the sideline for a close look at the bench. This will be a fascinating game, that's for sure. Chad, over to you.

***

Geri knows where Real’s dressing room is, he’s been in it before while on La Roja (hasn’t enjoyed it very much, it’s never a nice feeling to be in a rival pack’s den, but needs must and at least they had covered up all the Real crests with La Roja’s crest) and vaguely remembers how to find it. The hallway layout mirrors the other side with the guest dressing room, and that helps.

As does Kroos, who Geri runs into on the way to Real’s den, he points at the correct hallway (Geri of course would have picked that one anyway!) and only frowns a little bit. Not like Casemiro earlier, who sneered at Geri like he was something gross on the sole of his shoe. Real are stupidly protective of Sergio, but they can all go fuck themselves…

It rankles that they still think Sergio needs to be protected. Protected from _Geri,_ no less. Assholes, the whole lot of them. Not surprising, they are _Real_. Of _course_ they’re all assholes.

The particular asshole Geri is looking for is still in the dressing room in his own little ritual of having to be the last person to leave it. Geri’s not judging by the way, he’s seen guys with way weirder superstitions and he has his own little rituals too. He’s even glad Sergio needs to do this thing, because that means there won’t be any witnesses around. Even if the entire world knows they’re mated doesn’t mean Geri is comfortable with just advertising it to everybody and their uncle. Their... thing should stay as private as possible in his opinion and Sergio thinks the same. He _says_ he thinks the same thing, anyway. Geri’s not entirely sure if he’s being honest or not. They’re still kind of figuring things out.

When Geri finally opens the door to Real’s dressing room, he finds Sergio alone as (hoped) expected, methodically taping up his ankles. The Alpha knocks on the door frame as a little warning, but Sergio flinches anyway and only slowly relaxes when he sees who it is at the door. He throws Geri a short glance, then focuses back on his ankles without saying anything.

Geri’s not taken aback, by now he knows enough to be able to tell that Sergio is tense. And he also knows not to come too close if he doesn’t want to start an argument. Sergio’s in that special kind of mood where he’s just spoiling for a fight. He’s been riling himself up for the game, getting into that headspace he wants to be in, and if Geri pokes him the wrong way now, Sergio will explode like a volcano. It’s happened before, Geri still remembers the bruises... 

Sergio was sorry afterwards though. Geri was too, he was playing with fire and he knew it. He wanted to figure out how far he could push Sergio, and they’ve always been very good at pissing each other off. That part hasn’t changed, even if they’re now mated. But, if they’re lucky, there’s make-up sex afterwards now.

Geri’s not out for sex right now though. There’s a game to be played - and to be won. But there is something he does want:

“You okay?”

Sergio gives him a look that’s part exasperated, part fond (progress). “Sure. You?”

“Never been better. Considering I’m about to beat your ass.”

Sergio rolls his eyes, but doesn’t quite rise to the challenge Geri couldn’t quite help but throw his way. “Dream on, Piqué. Not on my watch. I told the press I wasn’t gonna make allowances for you and I meant it.”

“I know you did.” Geri is actually very okay with that. He’d lose all respect for Sergio if he did let Geri win… Plus: It’ll be much sweeter if - _when_! - he beats Sergio anyway. “Don’t foul Messi too much, though.”

Sergio throws him a wicked smile. “No promises.”

“Asshole.” Geri says and can hear the fondness in his own voice. “Am I staying over at yours tonight?”

Sergio leans back at that and looks at Geri steadily for a few seconds. “Is that a good idea?”

Geri knows what he means. Is it a good idea to be so close after this particular game? When one of us will be pissed after a loss and the other will be smug after a victory? When we might, _will_ fight about this, when emotions will be running high and we won’t know if we can deal with it… When I will gloat and be insufferable about it while you get so pissed off you’ll lash out. Or when I’ll be looking for a way to vent my frustration and you’ll make a gleeful, provoking target...

He shrugs. “Dunno.”

Sergio’s still looking at him steadily. Doesn’t say anything for what is probably only a few seconds, but it feels like much longer. Geri wants to twitch, wants to walk over there and punch Sergio for looking so _pensive_ , wants to be able to read that expression and know what Sergio is thinking, wants to make him tell Geri every single thought, wants to walk away and ignore the implications and the worry and his own doubts… He keeps himself from moving by sheer force of will. Not even his own Mate will make him show any weakness right now. Not now.

Sergio, eventually, shrugs too. “We should probably figure it out then.”

Geri relaxes. Yes, they should. He’s willing to, and it seems his prickly Mate is as well. That’s… good. Progress. Right? “Loser sleeps on the couch?” He suggests.

Sergio gets up and immediately starts to glare. “I’m not sleeping on the couch in my own house!”

Geri gives him one of his more challenging smirks. “We’ll see about that. Did you notice you instantly assumed you would be the loser, by the way?”

Sergio just snorts and throws the roll of tape into his locker. “One day your big ego is gonna get you into trouble, you know.”

Geri just grins as Sergio comes towards the door. “I could say the same thing about you, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Sergio rolls his eyes and elbows Geri so he’ll stop blocking the door. “Big bad Piqué, always right.”

“And don’t you forget it. Hey, Sergio?”

“What? We’re late. Game’s about to start.”

Geri reaches out, slowly, so Sergio knows what’s coming, his prickly, stubborn, skittish Mate. Reaches out and carefully touches Sergio’s cheek like Sergio did for him a while ago. Cups that cheek, featherlight, and leans in. Places a careful kiss on Sergio’s temple and breathes him in: Sergio, rival, Omega. _Mate_.

“Good luck out there. Be safe.” He says when he’s pulled back again, but leaves his hand on Sergio’s cheek.

“You too.” Sergio says softly, looking back at Geri. He doesn’t pull away from the touch when before he might have shaken off that hand, unwilling to accept comfort or affection. “See you later.”

“Yeah, see you.” Geri echoes and lets Sergio leave the room first. He waits a few seconds before he follows him so there won’t be any suspicions about why they arrive together, then walks along the hallway and back to his team. He can already hear them, both Barca and Real, players shouting, egging each other on, excitement and nerves making them loud. Sergio’s voice above them all, calling for his team to enter the fight. Geri hastens to join his own team, his own voice joining theirs.

Through the fence he can see Sergio touching every one of his team members like he always does. When he gets to the front of the line, he looks over at Geri and their eyes catch. There’s the hint of a smile on Sergio’s face and a grin on Geri’s. They keep their eyes locked for a few seconds, a few seconds longer, and Sergio only looks away when the refs start moving towards the exit of the tunnel. Geri looks after him for a second longer, feeling a rush of something warm. Excitement pools in his stomach, and happiness. It’s almost game time now. This is the beginning.

This is how it starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy ending? Sort of? Hopeful at least? I hope you enjoyed and again: thank you very much for reading. This was fun! :)  
> And for anyone who's unhappy that this is the last chapter: this is definitely not the end of their story (well, it IS the end of this particular story, but you know what I mean), there are still things left to be told. Stay tuned for an eventual sequel/more stories in this universe... :)


End file.
